Bittersweet Romance
by KuroKuroChan
Summary: A cute, sort of angsty, romantic YxT fic. Not my usual deal, but a friend bugged me to write it. R&R plz!


((Kuro-chan here with a wonderful fic of shonen-ai and whatnot. Usually I delight in writing YxV fics, but today I have decided to break out of the box and write a TxY fic. Why? Dunno, it was sort of a challange issued by a friend. Well, here it is anyway. Reviews are always welcome here, so let me know what you think! ))

****

Tien sliced through the night air, his tunic rippling behind him. He strained all three of his eyes to see ahead in the dismal dark. There wasn't even the soft glow of the moon to guide him. He had to fully rely on his ability to sense energy and emotion. This ability was what started his journey to begin with. 

He remembered... 

He was sitting in front of a crackling fire after training went he felt it. At first, it was just a small pang in the back of his mind. Then, it billowed into a sharp sting of guilt and depression. It seemed to leak from his brain down his spinal cord like an icy trickle. It gripped his heart with its frigid tendrils, seemingly slowing the beats as it crushed the vital organ little by little. 

He had left in a hurry, with just enough time to tell Chaozu to go to Master Roshi's island and that he'd stop by when he got a chance. This feeling...this sense of depression and lethargy...it was freaking him out. He flew faster, the crisp scent of the night air tickling his nostrils. He suddenly felt a slicing pain, one that stopped him dead in the air. Then, he felt the soft ebbing of Chi fading away. He felt his own heart race and he took off again, speeding blindly into the night. It was harder to place the Chi now that it was fading, but he followed the signal all the way to West city. He dropped down on a street curb and took off running. His boots pounded the tar with soft taps as he ran along the unfamiliar streets until he located the source of the Chi. He stopped outside of a small, low-rent house, one he recognized immediately as Yamcha's place. 

He kicked open the door and it gave way very easily, swinging open to reveal a dark, dank atmosphere. The darkness was thick, and seemed to push in like a velvet curtain. He pushed his way through the murkiness and immediately slipped on a sake bottle. He went tumbling over on to his ass landing in a pile of garbage. He leapt up, almost afraid of what he had landed in. He dusted himself off and clicked on a light. The bright glow stung his eyes for a moment, but he paid no attention to this and continued to prowl around. 

The fading Chi was coming from the back bedroom. He knocked lightly on the door. Nothing. He rapped his knuckles against the door briskly, evoking a louder knock. Still nothing. He placed his hand on the knob and turned it, pushing open the door. He had seen his share of horrible sights over his lifetime, but nothing could have prepared him for what he witnessed. The pale glow from the other room cast a triangle of light into the dark atmosphere. The odor of the room was musky and stale, but there was one other thing Tien perceived; a somewhat metallic scent. He stepped inside and once he was out of the way of the light, it tumbled down onto the most heart-stopping scene Tien had ever beheld. Yamcha was lying slumped against the side of his bed, surrounded by a carmine puddle of blood. Strewn in the pool of blood like horrific icebergs were shards of glass, and like a ship going down, a broken switchblade; the blade sticking vertical out of the ground; the handle some several inches away laying on its side. 

It was almost as if Tien's own heart had stopped beating. His mouth went cotton dry, and it seemed the walls of his throat stuck together, halting his breath. He stumbled in a daze over to where Yamcha lay. Tien dropped down in the pool of blood next to Yamcha, crushing several shards of glass with his knees. He pressed his fingers up to man's throat, frantically searching for a pulse. Only when he felt a few feeble beats push against his fingertips did his heart resume beating. He knew Yamcha needed help. The man was gushing blood feverishly from two fresh slashes on his wrists. Tien scooped Yamcha up in his arms and stood up quickly, his feet sliding briefly on the pool of blood. He stumbled forward, nearly losing balance, but hastily regained his footing as he hurried out of the room and down the hall into the bathroom. He shifted Yamcha over his shoulder and cast open the medicine cabinet door, searching for anything of use with his free hand. He tossed aside bottles of aspirin and cough syrup, and even hucked a box of Band-Aids over his shoulder. He first had stared at the box, considering the option. But then he flung it aside with the rest of the junk he found, dismissing the idea as a few lousy Band-Aids were definitely not going to be enough to patch up the mass cuts Yamcha had on his wrists. He slammed the door back forcefully when he came to the conclusion there was nothing of use there. _Time for plan B, _he told himself. He set Yamcha down on the floor and dropped down next to him in the billowing pool of blood; it's crimson fingers reaching across the white-tile floor, turning scarlet everything it touched. Tien yanked his tunic up over his head and tore a few strips off the bottom. _No loss here_, he told himself, _the back's already bloody from where I had Yamcha resting..._ He took the strips and bound them tightly across Yamcha's wrists. That's when he noticed Yamcha's breathing was ragged, and he was doing what could only be described as taking short gulps of air and struggling at it, too. Yamcha coughed and sputtered, blood rolling down his chin. Tien did the only thing he could. Without a second thought, he pinched Yamcha's nose and engulfed the man's mouth with his own. He breathed into the Z fighter's mouth once, twice, and finally a third time. He pulled away, looking down in concern at Yamcha. His breathing was back to normal, though it was still shallow and ragged. He swished around the metallic-tasting saliva in his mouth, wiping the crimson blood off his lips. 

Tien hefted the man up, cradling him against his chest as he made the trek down the hall to Yamcha's room. He set Yamcha down on the bed, running his fingers across the man's ragged scars. He hoped to Kami that Yamcha was going to be all right. He looked down at the pool of blood beside the bed, catching an apt glance of his dim, cerise reflection. His forearms were entirely coated in blood along with a patch on his chest and a few smatters on his face. His pant legs were sodden with blood and looked as though they had been dyed vermilion. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch up in a half-grin as he wiped the spatters on his face away with his upper arm, which wasn't so gore-coated. He sighed, figuring he should probably clean the mess up. He stepped out of the room, whistling to himself. He, after all, had a lot of work left to do.

*

Tien finished up with cleaning the other rooms about an hour later. It wasn't perfect, but at least he could walk without tripping over mounds of trash. In all, he had at least two garbage bags full of sake bottles. Not a good sign. Tien went back to the bedroom to check up on Yamcha. He pushed open the door, the pallid light cast from the hallway dancing into the room, tumbling over the bed where Yamcha lay, reflecting off his dull eyes. Tien ventured in, dropping to a crouch beside the bed.

"Hey, you're conscious. I thought you'd be out until tomorrow morning, what with all the blood you've lost. Well, this is a good sign." he said, allowing himself a slight smile. 

He gazed into Yamcha's eyes, so clouded-over and listless, and felt his smile evaporate. The Z fighter's face was pallid, and his cheeks were unmistakably hollowed. He had obviously not eaten in some time. The scarred warrior's dark eyes narrowed as he glared at the triclops beside him.

"Why did you do that?" he said, hardly above a whisper.

"N-nani? What do you mean?" Tien asked, clearly confused.

"Why did you bother...saving me?" he rasped, blood bubbling on his lips.

"Shh, shh..." Tien muttered. "I'll tell you why. It's because I care."

Big mistake. Yamcha clenched his teeth and gripped at the bed sheets, his breathing becoming erratic. Tien took a step away from the bed.

"Yamcha..."

"Care? CARE??? Since when have you ever _cared_ about me??? Since when has _anyone_ cared about me??? Never!!! Why couldn't you have just let me die? Why...couldn't you...have let me go in… peace? Why did you...save me?" he barked angrily, tears gushing down his cheeks, mixing with the scarlet stream of blood pouring down his chin and neck. Tien grabbed a tissue from the box on the bedside table, wiping away Yamcha's tears and blood.

"I'm gonna let you rest, okay? You need your sleep."

"Oh, sure! Now you let me rest!" he snapped as Tien left the room. 

Tien sighed, looking down. He felt bad for the man. He should have known this was going to happen. Ever since things had fallen through with Bulma, he had seemed depressed. True, depression was common after a relationship's end, but not to this degree. As the years went on, Tien noticed him slightly getting worse. But Yamcha smiled and joked so much, that he thought nothing of it. Hell, no one did; they all shrugged it off. He sighed, feeling a little protective towards the man all of a sudden. He pushed the door open lightly and peered into the darkness once more. 

Yamcha had rolled over onto his stomach, and was whimpering into the pillow. Tien wanted nothing more than to just go in and soothe the man, but he figured that interfering would only make things worse. He set out to the kitchen, casting open the refrigerator. Nothing halfway edible but millions of bottles of sake. He sighed, taking out some of the bottles, all full, and tossed them out. Out of about forty bottles, he left only four. Drinking was horrible to the health, and it was a depressant to boot. Depressants were the last thing Yamcha needed at his disposal. He sighed, sweeping out of the kitchen. He went back down the hall to Yamcha's room, and found upon entry, that he had dozed back off. Or had passed out. One or the other. Tien needed to go shopping for some food to eat, even if it was just for the night. He borrowed a white shirt from Yamcha's drawer and while he was at it, a pair of shoes. For one, _his_ shoes were covered in blood and wouldn't be proper to go to the store in, unless he wanted people to think he committed a murder. The shoes were a little bit tight, but they still fit regardless. His pants were pretty bloody too, so he snagged a pair and pulled them on. They were slightly short in the legs, but that was the price of being tall; you couldn't fit into your friend's clothes. He shrugged and turned out of the room, casting one long glance at Yamcha. He walked out to the kitchen and wrote a brief note on a post-it and walked back, adhering the paper to Yamcha's forehead. At least he would find it there if he happened to wake up. He looked uncertainly at Yamcha, deliberating whether he should actually go or not. He finally resolved to go, reminding himself that they needed something more than sake for breakfast tomorrow. 

"Sweet dreams, I'll be back in a bit." he whispered into the darkness, a slight smile about his lips.

~*~

Yamcha woke up a bit later to a pounding headache. He looked over to his alarm clock, which read three fifteen in the morning. He groaned rolling over and trying to remember what happened. He felt rage burning in his veins as it all came back. Tien. Why didn't he just let him die? Why did he have to be Mr. Do-good and save him? He wanted to die, not live. He groaned again, slinging a bandaged arm over his face. It felt like he had a friggin' sticky-note stuck to his forehead. _Wait a minute...I do have a sticky-note stuck to my forehead! What the...?,_ he thought to himself, pulling the note off his head. It had smatters of dried blood on it, and the left bottom corner was dog-eared. He looked down at the note, reading the little scribbles.

Gone 2 store 2 get food. Borrowed a pair of clothes and some cash 

4 the food. Hope you don't mind. Don't even think of pulling the 

suicide stunt again; it won't do any good. Be back soon. Hang 

in there buddy.

--Tien 

Yamcha crumpled the note and forced himself up. He staggered upright, stumbling a bit as he pushed the door open. What was the point of committing suicide if people were just going to mess it up? It was so that he couldn't even die in peace. It was like they all wanted to keep him alive just so he could suffer. No one cared before, so why now? Why not back then, back when he needed it? Who cared anyway? He sure as hell didn't. He stumbled out through the living room and into the kitchen, throwing open the fridge, bathing in its warm light. He blinked at the contents, wondering where all his sake went. He couldn't have drunk it all... Tien. The bastard threw out his booze. Yamcha growled and pulled the four remaining bottles, setting them on the counter. He opened up one of the cupboards and pulled out a large bottle of vodka. He grabbed his booze and about six bags of gummy bears and curled up on the couch, flicking on the TV. He settled the station on a talk show repeat, the one dubbed 'Oprah'. He went through all the bags of gummy bears and three bottles of sake in about fifteen minutes, at which point he was feeling pretty queasy. He heard the door bang open as Tien came through the door. The triclops set his numerous bags down on the table and walked into the living room. 

"Oh, you're up. What are you doing?" he asked sweetly.

"I'm watching Oprah. She's very sympathetic." he said, blankly looking at the screen. He took another sip of his sake, blinking a bit as his stomach churned.

Tien turned around, heading back to the kitchen. "I'm going to put away the groceries now, okay?"

Yamcha finished his sake and started on the vodka. "Uh-huh. Whatever."

"Geeze, try and be more optimistic." Tien sighed.

Yamcha sat bolt upright, growling. "Optimistic? Optimistic??? Do you know what you are even saying??? How can you even say that??? I...I..." he snarled. His stomach gave a growl of protested, and he flopped back down on the couch. "I don't have time do deal with this. Go...go put away your groceries." he murmured. 

Tien sighed, looking at Yamcha with pity. He opened his mouth to say something, but just shut it and sighed. He turned around, taking his groceries to the kitchen. Yamcha sighed, praying to Kami that his poor stomach would settle. He already felt a bitter taste rise up in his throat as he snuggled into the cushions of his couch, watching the shapes and colors on his TV screen crash together....

Tien removed the groceries from the bag, stocking the cupboards and refrigerator. He swung open the door of the fridge, placing the vegetables and fruits in the crisper drawer. He really worried about Yamcha at times. He wasn't very stable to begin with, and he doubted the alcohol he had been drinking was going to help. He remembered seeing at least four bottles of sake on the floor, and a long bottle of what appeared to be water, though he had a gut feeling it was probably vodka. This was not a good sign; sake wasn't to be mixed with other alcohol, in a glass or in a stomach. _Oh well, let him get drunk and get a hangover let him get sick to his stomach, _he thought to himself as he carefully tucked a carton of eggs behind the milk he had placed in there earlier._ It'll serve him right for being so… so… ungrateful._ As those thoughts formed in his mind, his grip loosened on the plastic bottle of ketchup he was holding, causing it to fall to the ground. He instantly felt bad for even thinking such a thing. It wasn't Yamcha's fault he was so snappy; the man had a lot on his shoulders, and he couldn't really be blamed. Plus, he was pretty much hammered; Tien could smell the stench of the alcohol from all the way out in the kitchen. Tien put away the last of the groceries, shutting the refrigerator door. He still needed to get a few more things, but he didn't want to bleed Yamcha's wallet dry. _That would make two of them,_ he mused to himself. He sighed shifting his feet, struggling slightly to un-stick his left foot from the floor. _Kami, the floor sure is sticky! Does Yamcha ever clean house?,_ he thought to himself as he unstuck his shoes. He headed over to the closet, taking out a mop and floor pail. He filled the floor pail with warm water and dipped the mop in gently, swabbing over the floor as he tried his hardest to dislodge the crap stuck to the floor. 

*

It took him two long hours, but he managed to get all the grime off the floor. He had to ask himself why he was swabbing the floor at 4:00 in the morning, but then remembered he had nothing better to do. He swiped the mop over the floor one last time for good measure and then sighed heavily, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He closed all three of his eyes, his body propped up on the mop-pole. He leaned back on the mop, pretty much ready to fall asleep. He heard a soft pad-pad-pad of footsteps enter the kitchen, and opened his eyes slowly, the blurry image of Yamcha coming into focus.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked in a soft voice.

Yamcha looked at him piteously. He didn't look too good.

"Are you going to be okay, tomodachi?"

Yamcha made a small noise in his throat and groaned slightly, holding his stomach. "I… I don' feel th'o good…" he slurred, obviously more drunk than before.

"Why don't you go and lay down." Tien suggested. "Go sleep the alcohol off. You'll feel less drunk in the morning." he explained. _Yes, sleep it off. You won't feel drunk in the morning, but you sure will have one hell of a hangover…,_ he thought to himself.

Yamcha swallowed hard and glared at Tien. "Hey, hey, hey! I am not drunk! I ju'th 'ave a th'peech impep…inpemin…" he slurred, trying to get his words out.

"Impediment?" Tien ventured.

"Im-ped-i-ment. Yeah…" Yamcha garbled, crossing his arms.

"Yamcha…" Tien warned, taking a step forward. "You should really sit down."

"Nah-uh…I'm ju'th fine…." he said, waving his hands. "Ju'th a th'peech impediment I tells yeh…" he said defiantly. 

Suddenly, an odd look crossed his face as he swallowed hard again. His face contorted a last time as he clamped a hand to his mouth. At once Tien realized what was happening and jumped back a few feet. Yamcha jerked his hand away and vomited in resplendent Technicolor, his puke stained with all the colors of the gummy rainbow. He shivered, stumbling back.

"…and a th'tomach flu…" he added, dragging a pajama sleeve across his face in an attempt to wipe the puke away. All it really accomplished was dragging the vile fluid from one side of his face across to the other. His body gave a nervous shiver and he stumbled back, toppling to the floor. "…and an inner-ear infection." he finished. 

Tien sighed, stepping around the pool of vomit. He lifted Yamcha up under the arms and carried him off to the living room. He laid the man on the couch and bustled off to the bathroom. He selected a washcloth and ran it under the faucet, moistening the material slightly. He strode back into the living room, crouching next to Yamcha. He dabbed at Yamcha's face, mopping the puke off his lips, and cheeks, taking extra care to clean around the scars that pitted his visage. He gently opened Yamcha's maw and cleansed his inner mouth as well. He sighed, straightening up as he stalked off to the bathroom once again. He tossed the washcloth into the hamper and then returned to the living room. He had to wonder why the scarred man hadn't tried to fend off his intrusion. As he passed by on his way to the kitchen (which need to be re-cleaned), he noticed Yamcha was passed out… with another bag of gummy bears tucked under his arm. The only remains of the last of the gummies was a red bear stuck to his chin. Tien brushed the offensive bear away and sighed as he thought of his upcoming task. He could smell the odor of the puke all the way in the living room. It had to be twice as bad in the kitchen, if not more. He swallowed back his own bitterness that began to well up and grabbed the mop of the floor.

"So much for sleeping…."

*

It took him only about ten minutes to clean the floor, yet it took another ten to get the smell out. He put away the mop after twenty minutes hard mopping, and trekked back to the living room. Yamcha was still passed out stone cold on the couch, a thin line of saliva running from the corner of his mouth. How the man exhibited enough energy to get up and pour down the amazing amount of alcohol he consumed and stay conscious despite his lack of blood was beyond Tien's comprehension. _Oh, the will of the suicidal,_ he thought ironically, pulling an afghan down to cover Yamcha's body. He glanced out the window, the pink of sunrise staining the cool sky. He yawned heavily, staring at Yamcha's sleeping form. He'd be okay, right? Tien needed sleep, even if just for an hour or two. He was exhausted. He scooped Yamcha up, afghan and all, and carried him into his bedroom, laying him gently on the bed. He ran his thumb over the cross shaped scar on the Z warrior's face, feeling great pity for him. He had gone through such pain in his life; emotional and physical. No wonder he wanted to die so badly. He just wanted out of the suffering.

"I'll make sure won't suffer anymore." he whispered. He stood up heading out to the living room, curling up on the couch to grab vainly at what sleep he could catch.

****


End file.
